When I remember 9/11, I remember pictures and emotions much more than any actual thoughts that I might have had.
Like a lightning at night my memory only provides me with flashes of what I’ve done that day. And the numbness that I still feel, the utter disbelief, that anyone could be so evil.
I was out shopping.
There was the call on my cell phone, my husband. He was kidding, wasn’t he?
At home I switched on CNN. There was smoke and only one burning tower and hectic voices of reporters.
I stood in my living room in front of the tv set and couldn’t move. I stared.
Rudy Giuliani giving an interview. People were falling from the buildings – no – they were jumping.
My lips turned numb, it still happens whenever I relive this moment, like right now.
Shortly thereafter the second tower fell.
I sent a message onto my husband’s cell phone: “The WTC doesn’t exist anymore.” I never deleted this message from my cell phone. As if I wanted to have something to show that this was real.
I called friends in North Carolina and left a tearful utterly incomprehensible message. They called back and we talked a while. They were safe.
That night I let the boys sleep in our bedroom. I needed to hear them breathe. My overall confidence, that things were basically alright was gone, not for good, but for a very long time.